The weekend was jammed packed. There were airports and hotels and condo's and hills and crowds and kids and food and cocktails and flora and fauna and sight-seeing and freak-outs and laughs and CROWDS and stupid streets and love and pride and ONE MOTHERFUCKING BLISTERING HOT SUN.
I doubt I can do justice to my Bay area re-cap better then whitey, but I will try. And I have pictures, yo! Since I have to practically blow my system to get my digital download to work it might take me a day to put it all together, but I will work on it tonight and fill you in on the haps. I had a ton of fun and was reminded just how lucky I am. Grateful and lucky. Tired as a bitch, but lucky.
And now, a word from Princess Crankypants.
I am a grump. I know this. I can also be a giant, frothing bitch. This I also know. Things got worse when my the hormone fairy danced a jig on my thyroid. I can strike first and ask questions later, it is a flaw. Not one I'm proud of, but I acknowledge that it does occasionally happen. Occasionally. It is NOT my habit or my intention when I'm voicing my opinion in my own special way. (Sometimes, I don't want to be a lying sack of crap too. God knows I can be meeeeeeeean).
I'm also an extremely defensive person (with good god damn reason) and will tear your head off if you come after me. But I am also loyal to a fault and will tear your head off and shit down your neck if you come after someone I care about. I don't mince words and I don't sugar coat things when I'm making a valid point. I'm smart and I can be vicious, but I'm also fair. Or I try my hardest to be. I truly do.
That being said, I hate, HATE being accused of things I do not do. Being a strong person, a person who's not afraid to say what she thinks. A person who has the balls to relay the hard things and point out when someone is being an asshole. A person who has the ability to recognize manipulative behavior, and earns the accompanying reputation, comes at a price.
It's very easy to use those traits against me. When you're the person who stops the fucker in his tracks by calling him out, makes it very easy for people to accuse you of launching an attack that never happened. When you have a mouth like a sailor it's easy for someone to believe that I told them to fuck off, when in fact I wasn't in the room when the debate took place.
Most people who do this to me don't register on my radar. I can see right through their tranparrent motives and when I'm standing on solid ground, confident that I've not appropriated whatever sin I'm charged with, it doesn't phase me a bit. However, when I have random bullets whizzing over my head by multiple people who have become insipid sheep, or when the misconduct comes from the building behind the parking lot on the other side of the wall to left field, I get fucking pissed. It's some weak shit and it rubs me the wrong way like sandpaper across my ass. It's crap and will make me spit out any droplet of respect I had for you.
Fuckers.
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